A quiet little spot where Rod Mollise shares his adventures and misadventures...

Sunday, May 19, 2013

The Herschel Project Nights 41 and 42

Is your Uncle
Rod crazy or just a little unrealistic? Either might be the case—or both,
muchachos. Probably the former, however.
You have to be kinda crazy to attempt deep sky observing in Louisiana in the
spring. Humid? Yes. Stormy? You betcha. Bugs? Plenty of ‘em. Nevertheless,
that’s just what I contemplated doing at the Deep South Regional Star Gaze
Spring Scrimmage.

There were a
couple of reasons Unk decided to do the smaller, informal spring edition of one
of his favorite star parties. There are still plenty of Herschels, mostly faint galaxies in
Coma-Virgo-Hydra, that need re-imaging with the Mallincam Xtreme. The pictures
I got with the old short-exposure black and white Stellacam were OK, but I can
do better with the Xtreme. An even bigger inducement? I had a new telescopewho
needed a dark site first light.

As you know if you’ve been paying attention to The Little Old Blog from Chaos Manor
South, Unk had ordered a new C8. A C8 because he loves C8s and is still not too
lazy or feeble to get one out under the stars at the drop of a hat. Yes, I
already had three C8s, but my youngest, Celeste, was going on 20 years old, and
I figured a telescope with the modern StarBright XLT coatings might be A Good
Thing. If I was gonna order yet another C8, I also thought I oughta go whole
hog, pedal-to-the-metal, and update all the way with a Celestron Edge 800
“optimized” SCT.

There was
the mount question, too. I have two mounts suitable for an 8-inch Schmidt
Cassegrain: an Atlas EQ-6 and a
Celestron CG5. The Atlas is a wonderful mount, but it is also a heavy mount. For that reason, it tends
to only get used for DSLR imaging a few times a year (at best). The CG5 is also
wonderful. Amazing go-to accuracy, light, and perfect for use with a Mallincam.
The CG5 does have a lot of miles on it after almost a decade of heavy use,
though, so I thought it was about time to relegate it to backup status.

If I needed
a new mount, this was most assuredly the time to get one. Celestron had just
introduced the replacement for the venerable CG5, the“VX.” What does the newun bring to the table? It’s like the CG5 in many
ways, but has been redesigned from the ground up with a better-looking, better-finished
head. On the inside, the electronics, motors, and gears have been upgraded.
There’s even an adult-sized power switch. Suffice to say, Celestron has rounded
off those CG5 rough edges we complained about for so long.

Best part?
The price. Celestron has always given a break on mount/OTA combos, and that’s
still the case. For just under 2K you get a VX with all the fixings and a
beautiful Edge OTA. Compare that to the price of a CG5 - standard SCT OTA combo
a few years back, about 1650 simoleons. Hell, y’all, with a bargain like the
Edge/VX, I’d actually be saving money (uh-huh).
I pulled the trigger with my fave astronomy dealer, Bob Black at Skies Unlimited.

Buying a new
telescope and putting it in service is rarely a simple or easy thing, and this
was no exception. Oh, the OTA I received was perfect. The mount was a slightly
different matter. There was a small problem:
one of the holes on the GEM head was poorly threaded. A small problem,
but in a critical place: the hole that the tripod central bolt threads into.

If you are sure a new scope/mount will not have
problems, it really doesn’t matter where you buy it. Give Joe Spit the Ragman a
call at Telescopes ‘R Us if’n you like. Unfortunately, it’s never guaranteed
you won’t receive a problem child, not even if you’ve bought super-premium like
AP or Bisque. If you do run into
trouble, your choice of dealer is of critical importance. In my case, Mr. Black
got a new mount out the door and on its way to me ASAP. Unfortunately, while
Bob is an astro-dealer extraordinaire, he is not quite a miracle worker. The
replacement VX would not make it to Chaos Manor South till day two of the star
party.

So what
would I do? What would I do? Coulda
lugged the Atlas to Louisiana, but I settled on the CG5 instead. It can use the
NexRemote telescope control software,
so I wouldn’t have to change my standard video observing routine. And I thought
it would be a good thing to give the mount a workout before sending her into
semi-retirement.

The new C8
would be the star of my show at the star party, but I wanted to give her an
informal first light before we left. At the Spring Scrimmage, it would pretty
much be video all the way, which wouldn’t do anything to show off the scope’s main
strength: less field curvature and coma
due to an advanced corrector lens system built into the baffle tube. I packed
Edge and CG5 into the 4Runner and headed for my buddy Pat’s StarGate
Observatory across the Bay.

What did I
discover? Two things. The Edge is all it’s cracked up to be. You’ve heard
“refractor like,” and I think that’s a fair description. The stars
were tiny and tight all the way across the field. Hell, she made my el-cheapo Zhumell
16mm 100-degree AFOV eyepiece act like a cotton-picking Ethos. While the seeing
was not perfect, from what I could tell the star test was as good as any I’ve
seen with a C8, and noticeably better than Celeste’s (sorry, old girl).

The second
thing? How amazingly good the CG5 still is. Yeah, when I was slewing, her
motors, and especially her declination motor, sounded like weasels with
tuberculosis. However, they’ve always sounded that-a-way. The important thing
was that she still put anything I asked for from horizon to horizon in the
field of a medium power eyepiece. That’s especially impressive since I had to
reject the first alignment star choices she offered due to trees at Pat’s now
somewhat overgrown observatory. It was as if the CG5 were trying to tell me,
“Unk, you don’t need no new mount. I’m as spry as I ever was.”

Actually, I also
learned two more things about the Edge:
I needed a dew shield and I needed a case for the OTA. I had thought I’d
use my 20-year-old Celestron DewStar shield, but it would not fit. It appeared
the diameter of the corrector assembly on the new scope was just a wee bit
larger than on Celeste. Luckily, I had time to get a new dew shield before the
star party. I tried to order one from Orion, but was shocked to find they don’t
sell their nice Flexishield dewshields anymore. Products seem to come and go
with increasing rapidity there of late. I found one that would do, a flexible
Celestron-branded model, at another merchant and paid a hefty but not
outrageous sum to have it over-nighted to The Old Manse.

I also
needed a carrying case for the OTA, and I needed it now. Shoulda thought about that when I had time to order one
from JMI, where I got an excellent
case for my NexStar 11, but I didn’t. That necessitated a trip to Walmart for something that would serve. I’d originally thought I’d get a
footlocker like the early C8s came in and which undergraduates still carry
off to college. Alas, it was the wrong time of year for that at Wally-World. I
actually found something better, anyway, a big plastic box with handles and
wheels from Sterilite. It only cost 20 bucks, and the foam from the Edge’s
shipping box fit perfectly. If it
holds up, I may not need to send Mr. Jim my money after all.

I felt like
I was as ready to go for the star party as I could be. Not that there wasn’t
one living room elephant sized question in my mind: Would
the Edge work with the Meade f/3.3
reducer I use for video imaging? What I’d read on the Internet seemed to suggest the
3.3 would work fine with a small chip camera like the Xtreme, but I wasn’t able
to find a definitiveblack and white answer to my question. Nevertheless, I
resisted packing Celeste in the truck as a backup. Instead, I tossed in the
eyepiece case. If the Edge wouldn’t focus with the reducer, I’d go visual.

Departure
morning Thursday was easy. I’d packed Miss Van Pelt, the 4Runner, the night
before. All I had to do was grab a cuppa Joe and my suitcase and say goodbye to
Miss Dorothy. Which was the only bad part. The Spring Scrimmage is simple and
informal. There are no talks, vendors, or prizes. Dorothy thought it was one
best suited to the hardcore observers and that she’d sit out this Deep South.

The trip
west and north to The Feliciana Retreat Center near Clinton, Louisiana was as
uneventful as uneventful could be. A total of three hours on I-10, I-12, and I-55
and I was pulling into the nice little facility, which is operated by the
Presbyterian Church. The first stop was the good old observing field for gear
setup. Even with our full fall complement of observers, nearly 150 folks, the
field feels expansive. So, you can imagine how big it seemed with only five
scopes and three tailgating canopies on it. Kinda lonely.

The good
thing was that with so few of us on the field there was no competition for power outlets. With my new 100-foot
Walmart extension cord plugged into one, I’d be able to run everything except
the camera—mount, computer, dew heaters—on AC. I prefer to run the Xtreme on a
battery in the interest of getting the cleanest video possible.

After I’d got
the telescope and mount assembled, the canopy up, and all the rest of the junk
I carry to a star party arranged, I began to hear rumbling. It was not from the sky. Oh, there were plenty of clouds,
but no thunder yet. It was Unk’s tummy. I’d eschewed my normal breakfast stop
at MacDonald’s, you see, since it wouldn’t have been much fun without Miss D. Instead,
I’d settled for a couple of pieces of toast before I left home.

Since the
meal plan would not kick in until supper, I was facing the prospect of a lunch
of Jack Links Beef Sticks and granola bars. It’s miles to the tiny town of
Clinton, which doesn’t have many restaurants, anyway. I was saved from that
fate by my buddy Walt, who was grilling hot dogs in his travel trailer. Juicy dog slathered with plenty of yellow French’s and I was good for a while.

Rumbly
tumbly banished, I took a critical look at the sky. I didn’t like what I was
seeing: clouds, lots of clouds, including some distinctly dark ones. Yes, the
weather forecasts I’d had over the last several days had not been overly
encouraging, but I hadn’t expected Thursday to be quite this bad. Looked to me that if something didn’t change we would not
see a cotton-picking thing other than the insides of our eyelids Thursday
night.

Oh, well,
such is the life of an amateur astronomer. I tried to forget about the clouds and motored up to the Lodge to unpack in my room. One of the
best features of the Feliciana Retreat Center is its lodge, which, in addition
to a beautiful dining area, has a passel of small motel-like rooms. As you may know,
I am way past staying in cabins,
even the FRC’s relatively nice “cottages,” unless he absolutely has to.

My little
room, “West 6,” was identical to those I’d stayed in on the three previous trips
to the DSRSG at the FRC: bunk bed and a twin
bed (we did get one with a double bed one year), small desk/dresser, bathroom
with a shower, sink in the room, and a couple of electrical outlets. There was
also an air-conditioner, which was only somewhat necessary in the
uncharacteristically cool May weather we were having. While the Center
technically has wireless Internet, their (satellite) connection can best be described
as “intermittent.” I unpacked my suitcase, changed into the new Pink Floyd
T-shirt I’d picked up at the Chiefland Wally-World last month, and headed back to the field.

What did I
do there? Hung out with old friends shooting the breeze about many things.
While I didn’t care for the hard-right politics that was an obsession for some
of the folks, I joined in when the topic became old TV shows and movies. Heck,
there was even a little astronomy talk. In other words, I had a nice time shooting
the breeze with friends I see too seldom, and when the discussion turned to “right
versus left,” I recited a little mantra my old Granny taught me many a decade
ago: “Just like water off a duck’s
back.”

I had a good
time practicing my sitting out on the field, but there were a lot of hours to
fill without talks and vendors and raffles; especially since
astronomical twilight would not arrive till well after nine. When I got tired of sitting, I’d walk over,
uncover my pretty new telescope, who’d told me her name was “Mrs. Emma Peel,”
organize and reorganize my astro-junk, and sneak another peek at my watch.

Finally, it
was six and time for the first meal of the star party. While I’ve occasionally
been served something not to my taste, I can say I have never seen poor quality
food at FRC. It is, in fact, right up there with the best food I’ve eaten at
any star party. Thursday evening was no
exception: uber-tender pot roast, gravy-drenched mashed potatoes, green beans, and a salad bar
(yes, a salad bar at a star party). The only problem? So few of us and so much
food made it tempting to go back for seconds—or thirds.

The food was
good, but what I want on my star party menu is observing. Back out on the field, it did not appear we were going
to get a single helping of that. The clouds were not scudding off at sundown as
they sometimes do; they were getting thicker. There was also an undeniable feel
of “rain” in the air. My pals and I stuck it out till just after ten, at which time
we began to feel the occasional raindrop. I tucked Mrs. Peel in in her Desert
Storm Cover and walked the ¼ mile back to the Lodge.

There, I
tried to settle in—without success. I was worried about Emma. There
wasn’t any sign of impending severe weather, not yet, but the NOAA weather
radio forecast I was hearing on my little 2-meter HT radio sounded dire.
Remembering the deluge-plus-gale of the 2009 DSRSG,
I got dressed, went back to the field, removed Mrs. Peel from the CG5, put her in
her case, and stowed that in the truck. Back at the Lodge, I was finally able to
relax, making it through one of my fave star party films, October Sky, on the laptop and even doing a little Cloudy Nights
surfing on the Internet before falling into a deep sleep that lasted till I was
awakened sometime after three by thunder and the sound of rain. Could it be as bad as it sounded? I walked down the hall and peered out the door. Yes, it was that: heavy rain and constant lightning. I began to despair about seeing anything this trip.

Yes, hope is often born
anew with the dawn, but I didn’t have any reason to feel hopeful when I
strolled into the dining room a little before nine for breakfast. The sky was
not dark, but it was cloudy, and the rain wasn’t torrential, but it was falling.
After a simple but good breakfast of eggs, sausage, pancakes, bacon, and
biscuits, I grabbed my umbrella and headed to the field to see how the gear had
fared.

Walking up to
the observing field, it was clear that while there’d been plenty of rain there
hadn’t been a downpour like in 2009 when the access road became a raging
river. On the field, my tailgating canopy along with everybody else’s was
standing unharmed. Yes, the observing table and camp chairs and everything
else were damp indeed, but I’d had the foresight to put anything that might be
harmed by moisture back in Miss Van Pelt before I’d left the field for the
first time Thursday night.

What else
did I do that day? Not much. Surfed the web for weather forecasts—I tried to,
anyhow. The FRC Internet was down for the count, it seemed. The 2-meter HT,
which I could tune to a NOAA frequency, was sure earning its keep. One other
help? A new (to me) iPhone app, Scope Nights,
an astronomy weather program that, along with the Clear Sky Clock program on
the phone, gave me reason for some hope for Friday—when I could get anything
off the obviously distant cell towers.

Other than
obsessing about the weather, Unk and everybody else spent the balance of Friday
much as we had Thursday: hanging out on
the field or in the Lodge, trying to get an Internet connection, and eating.
Lunch Friday was burgers that made Burger King’s Whopper look like a Krystal
(small, that is). That and a salad bar trip meant I wasn’t overly interested in a
supper that featured fried catfish, despite that being one of Unk’s faves. What
else? Reading back in the room with Stephen King’s 11/22/63.

When sundown
came, there was still plenty of clouds, but they slowly, ever so slowly, began
to wander off. Before long, Polaris popped out and I did a rough polar
alignment, sighting the star in the hollow bore of the CG5’s RA axis. A little
more waiting and there were enough stars to do a go-to alignment. That was
where I ran into a slight snag. I’d aligned the Edge's finder at Pat’s, but I had no
doubt bumped it when I removed it to put the scope in the case. The mount is
nice, and is the first removable finder-mount I’ve seen from Celestron, but
its two-screws-and-a spring-loaded-peg adjusters design means you can knock it
out of alignment if you are not careful. I intend to supplement the finder, at
least, with a Rigel Quickfinder shortly.

I sent the
scope to Procyon, which was bright and in the clear, and with a little slewing
around with the Logitech Wireless Wingman gamepad I use as an HC thanks to NexRemote, I eventually got the way out
of focus disk of the star on the screen of the little DVD player that serves as the Mallincam's display. Would I be able to get it into focus? Yep. The scope focused
with the Meade f/3.3 with travel to spare. I noted that focus shift was minimal
to the point of being almost non-existent. Procyon nice and small, I adjusted
the finder, did the second alignment star and four Calibration stars, ran the
Polaris polar alignment routine, redid the go-to alignment, and was finally
ready to rock and roll.

Next step
was firing up a new program, Deep Sky Planner 6, which I’d received from its author, Phyllis Lang, in Raleigh
during my recent trip to address Phyllis' outstanding astronomy club. The
soft deserves a complete blog entry and maybe a magazine article or two from
moi, but for now I’ll just say it was
easy and intuitive to use, and even though I’d never tried version 6 before, it
didn’t crimp my style. In just a minute or three, Emma and I were knocking out
fuzzy after fuzzy with the aid of DSP 6.

I did over
thirty objects before ground fog and clouds shut us down completely around twelve After
the first couple of targets, I really got into that blessed zone: peer at Deep Sky Planner’s display, enter the
next object in NexRemote’s virtual
hand control, center it if necessary, record thirty seconds of video on my
little Orion mini-DVR, and on to the next target. Thanks to the Monster Energy Drink I'd guzzled at astronomical twilight, I still wasn’t a bit
tired at midnight, and could have gone on for several more hours if the sky had let me.

As I headed
for the Lodge, I ruminated on Mrs. Peel’s performance. The Edge business
shouldn’t have made any difference with the video camera's small sensor chip, but,
nevertheless, I thought my Xtreme images looked better than normal. Could just have
been my imagination, but I thought the stars were tighter and the colors more
vivid. While the Edge corrector wouldn’t help with that sort of thing, the
excellent star test and the superior XLT coatings just might.

Back in my
room, the Internet was still down hard, so I watched an episode of Star Trek (the original series), “Where No
Man Has Gone Before,” on DVD. I was going
to go on to “Charlie X” after that, but my peepers began to close and I was soon
off to night-night land.

Saturday
morning dawned and you could actually see the Sun. Oh, there were still white
fluffy things in the sky, but fewer of ‘em. After breakfast, I went down to the
field to see what was what. Table and chairs needed drying in the sun despite
the fact that no rain had fallen. The thick ground fog was just about as bad as rain. As I
had the night before, I’d put anything that could be harmed by moisture back in
the vee-hickle when I'd shut down.

Saturday morning
and afternoon dragged on and on and on, enlivened only by mealtimes. Tacos for
lunch was a treat since they had all the fixings to go with ‘em, including (yay!) sour cream. About 3:30 p.m. I hoofed it back down to the observing field
for the want of anything better to do. When I rounded the bend and had it in view,
I was shocked. There was only one canopy other than mine still on the field and
it was in the process of being taken down.

I admitted the
sky did not look great, but both the Clear Sky Clock and Scope Nights were
promising OK conditions for Saturday evening. Me? When I get to a star party I stay. Only one time over the years have I
left early, Saturday at DSRSG 1999 when it became obvious
there was not the slightest chance of the heavy rain stopping. I do understand
people have commitments and have to go to work on Monday. Still, leaving early is a sure
recipe for hearing those dreaded words from your pals:
“Well, heck, you know what?
Clear as a bell right after you left. Great night. One for the books.”

Believe it
or not, that’s just what happened. By late afternoon, there was no doubt in my mind that conditions would be better, at least, than they had
been Friday evening. After dinner, which consisted of the Center’s signature
dish, brisket, the sky began to clear big-time. About half our number had left, but
four more folks had arrived by late afternoon. There were eightother people on the field with me Saturday night, so I wasn't a bit nervous despite the fact that,
as we all know, the skunk ape just loves Louisiana's backwoods.

Scope
aligned, I began hitting Herschels. I had promised myself that if at all possible
I’d do 50 objects before throwing the Big Switch. When the 50 mark came, howsomeever,
it was still early, not quite midnight, the sky was holding, and, with the aid
of a Monster Energy Drink, so was the old bod. I passed 50, topped 75, and only reluctantly
decided to wind things up when I hit 100 fuzzies. Even then, I drug my feet,
imaging M13, M97, M17, and M57, which were all surpassingly beautiful, before
pulling that accursed switch at 2:15 in the a.m. The only reason I quit then
was the prospect of packing and the drive home in the morning.

I won’t say
packing was fun Sunday. How could it be when the gear was nearly as wet as it
had been on the other mornings? While the ground fog was not thick enough to
shut down my observing Saturday, there was still enough of it to coat
everything with a thick layer of moisture. I moved what I could into the sun
and took a break for a minimalist breakfast of bacon, sausage, and biscuits. By
9:15, the gear was back in Miss Van Pelt and I was on the road for home. Was I
sorry to leave? I was, if not quite as sorry as I sometimes am. But
I had had a good time and I will be back someday.

One reason I
wasn’t overly depressed to be headed home to The Swamp was that a brand new
mount awaited me there. Dorothy had called Friday with big news: “IT’S
HERE!” I planned to tear into the big box as soon as I got home, but when I made it home, I reluctantly
admitted I was just too tired. I was, in fact, plumb tuckered out. In bed at
3:30 and up at 7:30 is a bit much for even me. I put the mount off till the next
day. A little relaxing in frong of the TV and I headed upstairs.

I was up
bright and early Monday morning, like a kid on Christmas, got the mount
together, and was relieved to find it beautiful and flawless and indeed quite
an improvement over the ol’ CG5, it appeared. The details? That will be the
subject for next Sunday, muchachos.

You can see a lot
more pictures from the Spring Scrimmage on Unk’s Facebook page.

Unk Rod,Great blog post, as usual. I go to your blog every Sunday for the great stories, and I usually end up learning something new.Question on your new C8... how was the collimation as received?Regards,J.F.